Holiday Spirits
by In Dreams
Summary: It's Christmas and Theo's feeling festive. Not even his father's miserable attitude can bring him down. Written for the Slytherin Cabal's Twistmas 2018.


**Author's Note:** This piece was written for the Slytherin Cabal's Twistmas fest and the premise was to put a dark twist on a light-hearted Christmas prompt. This story is Theo-centric and my prompt was "Spiked Eggnog." I hope you enjoy.

Thank you to Kyonomiko for being my alpha.

 **Warning:** Character death.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

The lawn was blanketed with a fresh coat of white powder, pale and glistening in the brightness of the sun. Snow continued to fall, chill and soft, granting the estate a proper Christmas feel.

Theo Nott smiled as he sat in his favourite armchair by the window, sipping a mug of eggnog. Theo had been feeling more festive than usual this year – it was Christmas day, it was snowing, and things were going just right. He just had a feeling it would be a Christmas to remember.

He had dressed in his most cheerful knitted jumper – forest green with a pattern of snowflakes and reindeer – and positioned himself beside the roaring fireplace in his private sitting room.

Nothing – not even the horrendous attitude of his abhorrent and disgusting father – would bring his spirits down today.

"Podski," Theo spoke into the room, the smile falling from his lips.

With a sharp crack, Podski appeared in the room, dropping into a deep bow. "Master Theo. What can Podski do for Master?"

"Podski, we're out of rum," Theo announced with a drawn-out flicker of his brows. "Do you suppose you could _acquire_ some more rum in time for Christmas dinner tonight?"

"Rum, Master?" Podski asked, his large green eyes bulging from his skull.

"Indeed," Theo mused, taking a sip from his mug. "Just a spot of rum should do. You know how Father enjoys rum in his eggnog."

"Yes, Podski does, Master Theo," the elf said, dropping into another bow. "Podski will fetch more rum for Master straight away."

"Such an efficient chap you are, Podski," Theo said with a bright smile. "Excellent work."

Podski beamed and vanished with another loud crack.

Theo hummed to himself, one of those pesky Muggle carols he always heard in the village shopping mall. Turning back to face the window he sang in a low voice, " _Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_.

* * *

"THEODORE!"

Theo rolled his eyes and rose from his seat by the fire. He had told the man a _thousand_ times, he preferred to be called Theo. Everyone else seemed to understand it just fine.

"What is it?" Theo drawled as he made his way to the parlour.

His father sat by the mantle, the fireplace unlit, fuming. The man sneered, his lip curling, and Theo pasted a banal smile onto his face.

It would be the best Christmas ever – the best Christmas ever – the best –

"What is that bloody outfit?" Nikolas Nott snarled, his hands clenched around the armrests of the seat.

"It's my Christmas jumper," Theo said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I'd thought that might be obvious, but perhaps it doesn't _quite_ speak as festively as I'd like –"

"SHUT UP!" his father roared. Theo didn't flinch.

"I thought, being our first Christmas after the war, it wouldn't hurt to bring a little cheer into the Manor," Theo explained, that same smile stuck on his face. "You know, given you managed to evade Azkaban."

Evade – read: manipulate, blackmail, threaten and murder his way out of a sentence.

His father sneered. "And what the fuck sort of a pansy did I raise for a son, then, eh? Bleedin' _cheer_."

Theo gave him a flippant shrug. "Shame. Must be Mother's influence on me then."

Nikolas Nott's fingers on the armchair turned white as his grip tightened on the worn upholstery. "Don't you dare, boy!"

"Oh, right," Theo said lightly, throwing his hands up. "I forgot I'm not allowed to talk about Mother."

His wonderful, beautiful, inspiring mother – whom Nikolas had murdered, right over there on the other side of the mantle, when Theo had been eight, cowering and screaming beneath the sideboard.

"GET ME A DRINK!" his father exclaimed, spittle flying from his lips.

"Why, of course," Theo acquiesced, fighting the urge to recoil in revulsion. Never mind the Manor had eight elves. "In fact, I've just asked Podski to fetch some more rum."

"Fine," his father snapped. "Be quick about it."

"Oh," Theo said as he stopped on the threshold. "Dinner is to be served in five minutes. Let's not make the elves wait, hmm?"

And he turned and walked away, ignoring the grumbled curses being flung his way as he went, allowing a smile to slip to his features once more.

 _It would be the best Christmas ever –_

* * *

Theo presented his father's glass of eggnog with an exaggerated flourish, leaning in and placing the tumbler at Nikolas' place setting. His father turned to him with a cold sneer as he grabbed a fork and knife from the assortment of cutlery before him.

Slipping into his own seat, Theo secured a napkin in his lap and took a sip of his own drink.

"It smells fantastic," he announced as he appraised the Christmas spread before him. The elves beamed at him. His father growled and stabbed a piece of turkey from the serving platter.

A shame, to think his father had once been a proper pureblood with manners.

"So," Theo hedged, in an effort to make Christmas dinner conversation, "now that you aren't worried about spending the rest of your life in prison, what do you intend to do with it?"

He sheared off a piece of turkey on his plate and dipped it in cranberry sauce, savouring the warmth of the meat.

His father scowled at him, shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his gaping mouth; Theo forced a smile to cover the grimace.

"You'll keep your mouth shut about such things, boy," Nikolas Nott sneered through a mouthful of crushed tubers, washing it down with a swig of the eggnog Theo had prepared for him.

Theo shrugged. "Alright. But you know, Father, I suspect at some point you might wish you had simply gone to Azkaban. You know, instead of threatening that poor bloke on the Wizengamot's entire family."

"Theodore," his father growled, stabbing his fork into a slice of turkey. "You'll shut your fucking trap."

"Trap shut," Theo said with a tight smile, chewing a forkful of steamed carrots. He watched as his father took another deep pull from the eggnog, and Theo fought the smile that tugged at his lips.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Theo enjoying the delectable meal, as his father grunted and snarled his way through his heaping plate like a ravenous beast. It was really quite repugnant.

"Oh," Theo announced, setting down his silverware. "I almost forgot – Draco's coming over later."

"I don't care," Nikolas sneered. "Just stay out of my way."

"You won't even notice we're here," Theo clipped, "I promise."

His father didn't respond, finishing the last of his eggnog instead. He swiped at his face with his handkerchief, leaning back in his seat. Within moments he slapped on the table.

"Where's the dessert!"

"It's good to allow yourself time to digest, Father," Theo mused. "And perhaps the elves are waiting until I've also completed my dinner."

"I don't –" Nikolas began, flinching. "I –" he tried again, and clutched at his chest, a deep furrow coming to his ruddy brow. He slapped at his chest, his eyes widening.

Theo took another bite of his turkey, dabbing his napkin at the corner of his mouth. He took a sip of ice water.

"Something in your throat, Father?"

"WHAT DID YOU –" Nikolas roared, cutting himself off as he gaped at Theo from the head of the table.

Podski stepped forward to slide a plate with a large slice of pie in front of Nikolas with a deep bow.

"Thank you, Podski," Theo said with a nod at the elf. "He might like a taste before he goes."

But Nikolas' hand slapped the table as his body began to shake, his eyes bulging and bloodshot; foam broke from his lips and Theo released a low sound of disgust, leaning away from the table.

"Gross," he muttered to himself, finishing the last bite of his steamed broccoli. "An excellent meal, Podski. My compliments to the team."

"Thank you, Master Theo!" Podski exclaimed, his eyes watery as he beamed at Theo. "And like Master requests, Podski gets the _rum_!"

"I see that," Theo said with a gesture at his father, just as Nikolas collapsed into his slice of pie. "Podski, Draco will be joining me for dessert, but perhaps we'll take it in my sitting room, please."

Theo clapped his hands together and rose to his feet, just as he felt the shimmering of the magic that meant the estate had transferred to him. Moments later, the Floo came to life with a flash of green and Draco stepped through, eyeing Nikolas with a raised brow.

"Is it done?" he drawled, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"It is," Theo said with a nod. "And quite efficient, if I do say so."

"How did you do it?" Draco asked, approaching Nikolas but keeping a careful distance. His lip curled as he cringed.

"Cyanide," Theo clipped. "Quick and easy, like the Muggle said. Although, of course, he thought I had a vermin problem."

Draco nodded in appreciation. He gestured with a hand. "Which, technically, you did."

"True. Pie?" Theo asked.

"Absolutely," Draco agreed. "You know me – always up for a second dessert."

"Podski?" Theo asked, waiting until the elf reappeared. "Do you suppose you could send a couple of the elves to dig a hole in the family plot?"

"Of course, Master Theo!" Podski exclaimed, beaming. "Podski will send Bonky and Tarzy!"

"Excellent," Theo nodded. The elf vanished and Draco raised a brow. Theo shrugged, casting his friend a wry grin. "I made a deal with Podski a while back – I freed him but he stayed on to work for just me, and not my father. Now I'll hire him back on."

"Smart," Draco said with a flicker of his brow. "I wouldn't have thought of that."

" _Your_ father didn't weasel his way out of a life sentence," Theo reminded him. "Your father also didn't deserve death, to be honest; Lucius isn't deplorable slime. A few years will straighten him out, I'm sure."

Draco nodded with a shrug. "It's probably true."

"Now," Theo said, clapping his hands together. "Pie!"

* * *

Leaning back in his armchair by the roaring fire, Theo took a sip of his eggnog. Draco reclined in the seat beside him, both of them full on apple pie.

Theo had put on a cassette tape of Muggle Christmas carols with a sense of satisfaction. He had purchased a battery-powered music player from the shopping centre in anticipation of the occasion, and had learned how to use it from a girl in the square. The two of them tapped their feet absently to the joyful tune; Theo hummed the upbeat rhythm to himself.

"Brought you a gift," Draco clipped, drawing a small package from the inside of his robes.

"Oh, brilliant," Theo nodded, "I've got one for you too."

He collected Draco's gift from the mantle and they traded with a grin – it had been a tradition since they had been children. Draco gifted Theo a nice new set of eagle feather quills – for managing the estate – and Theo gave Draco a book on modern household potions and a packet of sweets.

Draco grinned and popped a toffee into his mouth. "Thanks, mate."

They snacked on Draco's sweets for a few minutes, and Theo released a heavy sigh.

"Suppose I ought to get this over with," he said, staring out the window; it was dark now, but a soft coat of show continued to fall, visible in the pale light of the moon. "Will you come with me to bury him?"

Draco gave a shrug. "Sure, why not?"

They returned to the dining room, where Nikolas' body remained, half-collapsed on the table. Theo levitated him from his seat; pie stuck to one side of his face and Theo grimaced in distaste.

"Well, happy last Christmas, Father." He snickered, and his father's corpse hovered before them as he and Draco walked outside into the snow and across the estate to where generations of Notts were buried.

He released the spell and Nikolas Nott's body fell with little ceremony on the ground beside the hole the elves had dug. Theo had procured a plain coffin earlier in the week and he levitated it forward into the hole, and then transferred his father's body into it.

"Not really sure how they do this," Theo said with a shrug as he sealed the coffin with a wave of his wand.

"Looks good enough," Draco said with an appraising nod, sliding his chilled hands into his pockets. "Are you going to say anything?"

"I suppose I ought to," Theo sighed. "Well, here lies Nikolas Nott. He was a lousy father, to be honest, and a terrible husband, but he was proficient with the Unforgivables and he brewed a decent burn paste." Theo hesitated, pondering whether he had anything nice to say.

"There was that one time," Draco chipped in, "when he got you that broom that wasn't even on the market yet."

"Right!" Theo exclaimed, holding up a finger. "Yes, he was good at things like that, too. Although I'm sure he blackmailed the broom maker."

"Yeah," Draco muttered, giving a shrug.

Theo brushed the snow out of his hair. "Well, I'm cold."

With a wave of his hand the coffin lowered deeper into the earth. Theo found a shovel and threw a few loads of dirt on top of the coffin before dumping the rest of it on top with another twist of his wand. He conjured a simple headstone that only bore his father's name.

Draco nodded once he was complete, giving Theo a sidelong glance. "Merry Christmas, Theo."

Theo released a long breath. "Thanks. Merry Christmas." He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the tombstone. "Think I'll just take another minute."

"Sure." Draco clapped him on the back. "Owl me if you need anything."

"I will," Theo nodded.

Draco turned and made his way back across the grounds, leaving Theo alone in the cold, snowflakes landing in his hair and on the shoulders of his Christmas jumper.

He conjured a wreath of dead flowers, placing it at the base of his father's grave.

It was interesting, to think that Theo was the head of his family line now. He didn't think anyone would miss Nikolas Nott – and even if they did, Theo had already arranged a story. It wouldn't matter.

And Theo would be free to live his life on his own terms, for the first time in eighteen years. He released a long breath, digging the toe of his boot into the soft earth, already flecked with snow.

He turned from his father's grave, tossing a brisk, " _Arse_ ," over his shoulder as he walked away.

There was a spring in his step by the time he arrived back at the Manor, a bright rhythm playing through his head as he hummed to himself.

He settled back in his armchair by the fire, sipping a fresh cup of warm eggnog. With a wave of his wand, Christmas decorations sprung up across the room and a smile turned his lips. He sang to himself, his ankle jiggling as he folded it across his knee, " _Now the jingle hop has begun_."


End file.
